ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

The Muster

As they gathered at the stockyards expectation filled the air
the final moments always were the worse.
The wild bulls wicked horns glistened in the setting sun
I heard one ringer mutter then a curse.

These were the pikers and scrubbers from the final musters sweep
brought in from gullies in the ranges dark.
they were wild and wicked bovines who were very quick to rile
and to brand them, well it was a frightening task.

Like some raging wall of terror they bustled to and fro
lolling tongues and wild eyes showed their building fright.
Still the riotous ringers gathered on the railings and the posts
as they soaked up the excitement of the fight.

The branding irons were ready glowing in the setting sun
they climbed into the yard and grabbed their gear.
No torture here or sadness they just had a job to do
a ritual oft repeated every year.

Tomorrow they would move on to the next camp down the line
once the trucks had moved the cattle from the stand.
but for now the task at hand meant there would be no rest tonight
'till these wild beasts wore the stations owners brand.


Bob Pacey (C)

Good one Bob - your words capture the atmosphere of branding time well - a great poem for Beef Week up there. Just a thought with this line

there would be no torture here or sadness they just had a job to do
a ritual oft repeated every year.

might you consider something like .....

There would be no torture here or sadness, it was just a task

only because you have used the same phrase 'they just had a job to do' in the next verse as well .

Hows that sound ?

Bob

It's better but I still think you need to shorten this line

there would be no torture here or sadness they just had a job to do

to this maybe

there would be no torture here or sadness, just a job to do

There fixed and it rolls off the tongue better ?



Bob

Perfect - it does indeed roll off the tongue - now go and share it May I use it in the mag?

Sure can Mausie.

Thanks for the suggestions.


Bob

Enjoyed this poem Bob it really took me there.

Good one Bob. Another take on the prompts.
Trish